A Wild Ride
by WindowChild
Summary: When Percy begins to doubt the worth of his life, a strange goddess takes him on a journey through an alternate world: one without him in it. In this life, Annabeth is pregnant with Luke's child, and the gods have crumpled under Kronos' thumb. Sort of AU.
1. Down in the Dumps

"You know what Percy, you can sleep in the guest room tonight." Annabeth's face disappeared behind the splintered door, leaving Percy stranded in the dim light of the hallway.

They didn't have a lock on their bedroom door. If he wanted to, he could go in right now and apologize. They were both adults. At least, that's what the birth certificates said. His pride held him back though, unmoving in the threshold, and he glared at the peeling green paint.

What had they even fought about? Money. The kids. What else? He slowly lowered the hand he'd lifted in protest and sighed, wondering how long the latest rift would last. A night or two, at most. He didn't think he could take much longer than that; those gray hairs would start to multiply.

"Daddy? Can I have a glass of milk?" Clara hovered anxiously by the staircase, her green eyes wide in worry. Percy sighed, wondering how much she had heard.

"Sure, hon. Uh, you don't have to ask." Her lips trembled nervously, and he watched her pajama-clad feet retreat a few steps. "Here," he said, softening his tone. "Come on." He scooped her into his well-practiced arms and took her down to the kitchen, letting her rest on the redbrick countertop as he poured the drink.

He smiled as he handed her the favorite mug, trying his best to cheer her. She was all Annabeth in looks – save the eyes and ski-slope nose – and his heart broke every time she wore that expression. It reminded him all too much of a younger Annabeth Chase: that wise, pertinent expression, hiding more pain than he could imagine. Of course, Clara's life was nowhere near as dramatic, but he knew their fights were tough on her.

"Time for bed," he said softly, after she'd drained the glass. "Let me tuck you in." The words tasted too sweet on his tongue, even though he'd been using them for a solid seven years. But tonight felt somehow apart, removed from his day-to-day world as father and husband and swimming instructor.

"Okay, Daddy." Clara was such a good girl. She never complained or protested, rarely threw tantrums. Her kind and easy nature was every parent's dream.

Percy waited patiently in her room while she brushed her teeth, braided her hair down the back the way that Mommy taught her. By the time she climbed under the covers, she looked a good deal less sad.

"Good night, sweetie," Percy whispered, pulling the blue cotton sheets up to her chin. "I love you." He planted a kiss on her forehead and marveled at how much he'd changed since his daughter's birth. Once upon a time, he'd sworn he'd never use pet names like 'sweetie'.

"Good night Daddy," Clara echoed. She smiled a light little smile at him and shut her eyes, engulfed by dreams. Percy hoped, for her sake, they were happy ones. He waited another minute or so, watching her tiny face as it smiled at something he couldn't see. He would have stayed there longer, let the rhythms of her breathing cure him, but the phone rang.

As the world rushed up around his feet, Percy left her blue-and-pink bedroom in search of the telephone.

"Hello?" he said, resorting to the one in Annabeth's home office. She didn't like him in there usually – too many blueprints he could mess up, she said – but tonight he didn't really care about her wishes.

"Percy?" The voice sounded far away, drowned out by a symphony of car horns and night noises.

"Who is this?" Percy asked. Annabeth hadn't wanted to spring for caller ID, so every answer of the phone was a risk.

"Percy, it's me."

"Nico? Hey, where are you? It's loud."

"Yeah…" The words cut off, and Percy heard a sharp intake of breath in the reciever.

"Nico? You there?"

There was a long pause. "Yeah. …Percy? Um, I'm at Ringo's… you know, the bar near my apartment, and – and I don't feel so good…"

Percy's heart stilled with sudden anger, the scent of his disappointment clouding up the bedroom. "How much have you had to drink?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but barely managed not to shout. Of course, he understood that Nico was a stressed graduate student. He even understood that everyone needed to cool off sometimes, get a little drunk – gods knew he and Annabeth had shared their quota of drunken nights – but Nico was calling him at least twice a week now, and between the beers and the fighting and the money issues….

"Just a couple Percy, I promise!" And Nico sounded like that scared little boy again, stamping Percy's judgment with sympathy. Damn it.

"You're outside?"

"Yeah."

"Stay there. I'll be there as fast as I can." He hung up, trying not to slam the phone. Then he went and knocked on his bedroom door.

"What?" She sounded cold, but no longer furious.

"Can I come in?"

"I suppose." 'Suppose'. She only used words like that when she wanted to shut him out.

He tried not to be too reluctant as he entered, reminding himself that he usually slept here too. His skin prickled when he saw her, curled casually in bed with a book in her lap. Entirely unbothered by their argument. By the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping her tonight. Gods, and he hated how beautiful she looked tonight, with her blonde curls dangling around her waist, sporting one of those lace nightgowns… He cleared his throat, deciding to make this as brief as possible.

"Hi, so, Nico called…"

She slammed the book shut, uncontrolled anger crossing her face. She groaned. "He _can't _keep doing this. I mean it. You tell him – "

"I know," Percy interrupted, giving a curt nod. "But I can't leave him there, you know that. I'm going to get him, drive him home, and… yeah, I just thought I'd tell you. Clara's in bed."

Annabeth stared at him a moment longer, as if expecting something else. When he didn't continue, she nodded just as coolly. "Fine. Tell him I'm very angry with him."

Percy tried not to roll his eyes. "I will." He shut the door, putting her back in place behind the wall of wood. No matter how close they got, that wood would always be there. He felt that, he sensed it, and it hurt him right in the heart.

Thankfully, the car was full of gas, meaning this trip would be as short and painless as possible. Percy glared at every passing car, hating them. He didn't know why the mood swing had hit him so hard tonight; it was probably just a side effect of so many things gone wrong.

He was a good father, he told himself. He knew that. But… was he a good husband? A good mentor and cousin to Nico? A good friend? He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to Grover. And he'd forgotten a present for his mother, on her last birthday. A forgetful, lousy son who never called anymore. He was good at teaching children to swim, but that hardly meant anything. And anyway, wasn't there some quote about that? "Those can't do, teach."

Life felt like a disappointment, all of a sudden. These routines – the drunk Nico, the angry Annabeth – they felt too natural, as if nothing could ever progress beyond this state of uneasiness. Was it his fault? Waiting at the red light, surrounded by the embodiment of his town, Percy couldn't help but blame himself.

He was the son of a god, sure, but that didn't make him perfect. Didn't give him the skills he needed to pull out of this slump. He wouldn't kill himself, he wasn't depressed enough for that, but maybe… maybe life would be better off without him.

His eyelids flickered, weighed down by exhaustion. The stoplight shone through the obstruction of his skin, casting a ruby glow across his fading mind. Then all it once it faded, filtered through his hands like sand, and he saw it.

A face.

A/N: I know, I really shouldn't have started a new story. I suck. But this one's been bothering me for a while, and I had to write it. Reviews will make me love you forever and ever (and ever and ever). Mwah! Thanks for reading!


	2. False Memories

A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with the second chapter! I love all of you who reviewed the first chapter; your feedback really motivates me to write faster. Anyway, thanks much, and I hope you like this update.

The face soon conjoined itself to a body: a slender waist, swathed in satin, and an elegantly long pair of legs.

Percy stared. What was he seeing? Where was his car? Nico would be waiting, if this daydream – or whatever it was – took too long.

All was still a moment. Then other essentials joined the form before him; a pair of ears appeared from thin air, and long curtains of black hair slipped over the forehead.

In a blink, the body became a person – a woman. She wore a splendid gown, down to her toes and bathed with glitter. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if he'd missed something. He felt as if he'd seen her come together, piece by piece, but maybe he'd been blind all the time. Who could tell?

His neck swung anxiously from side to side, and he tried to gather his surroundings. White. Endless puffs of white, careening round him like crepe paper. Smoke or clouds? Air? He couldn't tell. No matter how hard he strained his eyes, he could not see beyond a few feet. It was too foggy.

Like a magic trick. Smoke and mirrors. Hallucinations.

He scratched his head and wondered if he was drunk himself. He couldn't remember having anything – they didn't keep alcohol in the house, really – but it was always possible. Or maybe he was suffering from exhaustion. Early-set dementia. Gods, he honestly didn't want to know what was wrong with him. He just wanted to get the hell of out this illusion, whatever it was, pick Nico up, and go home. When he remembered he'd be sleeping on the guest room's mattress, which sagged uncomfortably from lack of use, he grimaced. This was gonna be a long night.

He did a double take, for the face had changed shape. It was blank before, a shell of smooth skin and even features, but something had gone amiss. It took Percy a moment, but then he realized it was the mouth. It – she – was smiling! That couldn't be good. Smiling dreams usually signified insanity, didn't they?

"Hello, Percy. I'm glad you could join me." Her eyes opened, revealing an ordinary pair of brown eyes. They suited her, and Percy relaxed. At least they weren't red or something scary.

"I – I" he sputtered. Something about the way she spoke… she was a goddess. He knew it. One of the minor ones, whose name he didn't have the patience to learn. And oh man, the deities got so pissed when you didn't know they were. Still, in a way _this _was comforting as well. If she was a goddess, then this was a supernatural experience. He wasn't losing it. He hoped not, anyway.

Blinking at him, and smiling tightly, it was easier to make a judgment on her. She wasn't pretty exactly, maybe a little too stern, but she seemed polite enough. She hadn't threatened him or anything, yet.

"I'm glad too?" he said finally, for it seemed she was expecting a response. He tried to remind himself that he was a grown man. He could vote, could drive. Could drink and procreate without plan parenthood on his heels. He shouldn't feel so intimidated by one minor little god. It wasn't like she mattered, or anything, whoever she is.

The woman's face tilted ever-so-slightly to the left, her eyes narrowing. "Please be advised, I can your thoughts." She spun mocking circles with her hand, that little smile of gauze never leaving her lips. They were red, Percy noticed. Red as cherries – or blood. Oh gods… what if she stood for something dangerous? He really wasn't in the mood to fight tonight.

"You can relax, Percy," she said, sounding almost exasperated. "I am Mnemosyne."

She said that like it should be reassuring, but he didn't know what the Hades that meant. Even so, he nodded and forced a shaky smile, as if that took the load off his shoulders. "Oh, okay," he said, purposely avoiding her gaze.

She tossed him a cold stare, the smile long gone now. "Percy. I _can hear your thoughts." _

"Oh._ Oh_. Sorry," he muttered, abashed. Well. It wasn't like he had time to memorize each and every one of the gods out there. He had a daughter to raise, a team of water-prone young ones to stop from drowning. It took time. He raised his eyes to her and tried to smile apologetically.

"Fine," she sighed, "I am goddess of memory, and mother of the nine muses."

…But wasn't their father… Zeus? Percy balked. Hera would kick his ass if she found out he was buddy-buddy with one of Zeus's mistresses. At least, he figured she might want to.

"You can stop worrying," she said, eyes partially closed in frustration. "The gods are the ones who sent me. You've become an annoyance to them, Percy. Particularly in the past few months."

Now he was confused. Very confused. Maybe this was a dream or something after all. "An annoyance? Huh?" he frowned. "I – I haven't talked to any gods in ages! I saw my dad maybe, I don't know, a year ago or something. That was it!" Blood simmered in his ears, making them throb. Mnemosyne looked both amused and aggravated, as if the thorn in her side had suddenly begun to tap dance.

"Oh Percy, how ignorant you are. Mortals… I forget your short term memories." She clapped a hand over her shining mouth, giggled demurely, and then resumed her glaring. "It doesn't matter if you haven't had direct _contact_ with the gods, they still know what you think. They still know when their one-time hero decides his life is no longer worthy."

He felt suddenly enraged, as if the padlock against his daily stresses had been lifted. They swarm out as a slew of muddy yellow, maggots of negativity like those in Pandora's box. "What – but that's nuts! It's – it's… ugh," he groaned and shook his head, cheeks blooming with lively splotches. "Those are just my thoughts," he said flatly, "what do they care?"

She shrugged almost lazily, an action he didn't expect from a god. "After spending these few minutes with you… I honestly don't know." One of her eyebrows lifted suggestively: a challenge. "But you are Poseidon's only child, I suppose," she said, "and as I said, you were once their hero. They keep a close eye on you."

"But still…. They're gods. What do they care about how content I am?"

Mnemosyne smiled softly, the mockery never leaving her eyes. "Perhaps they feel you aren't appreciating it enough. After all, you're alive, aren't you? You have a good life."

"But I…" All protests sounded childish to him, so he settled for a noncommittal shrug.

"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice louder than before. "Mostly, they're irritated that you complain so often. Tonight, when you wondered if the world really needed you in it, your father requested I pay you a visit. So here I am."

"M-my father?" he asked hoarsely, eyes wide.

"Yes. And I really don't have time for much more discussion, so let's get to it."

"Get – get to what?" he asked. She drew closer to him, her needle-like fingers outstretched. They were matched in height, though Percy imagined he was stronger than her. Then again, she did have godly powers on her side. …No, he thought sadly, there was no way he could take her. Whatever she was about to do, he was victim to it.

Her smile widened just as she reached him, revealing her pristinely white teeth. Without a word, she took her hands and clamped them against his cheeks. They were cold, a bit rubbery, but did not feel too unnatural otherwise. Still, after a moment of numbness in his jaw, he debated asking her to remove them. "What… what are you doing?" he finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I am showing you memories, Percy," she explained. "Now close your eyes, please."

He didn't obey straight away. "Uh, I can visit my memories whenever I want actually…" he said, feeling uncomfortable. "All I have to do is, you know, remember."

She smiled and ruffled his hair, as if he were a rather stupid chimpanzee. "Oh, but these are not your memories Percy. These are alternate memories." She smiled at his perplexed expression. "Memories at a world without you. A world in which you were never born."

Percy barely had time to gape before she was choking him, her icy touch pressing too closely on his bones. He wanted to scream, tried to, but there was no space in his mouth for that. Finally, when he thought he would collapse from the sheer pain, he felt her slip away. Suddenly everything was too warm, and he was falling down and down. Darkness.

A/N: Oh yeah, I totally did steal this from "It's a Wonderful Life." If you haven't seen that movie, by the way, you're a loser. …Kidding. Really though, you should see it. It's the best movie ever made, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. Reviews are always nice tokens of your reading : ).


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